


Gules Sinister, Vixen Rampant

by MistressOfMalplaquet



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty loses her temper, F/M, The Vixens are a serious force to be reckoned with, post 2.21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfMalplaquet/pseuds/MistressOfMalplaquet
Summary: Red has never been Betty's color.





	Gules Sinister, Vixen Rampant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jandjsalmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jandjsalmon/gifts).



_He's a piece of art even this close to death,_ Betty thinks. Jughead looks like a Rembrandt painting or Da Vinci drawing done in ochre, charcoal, and red, so much red.

Her vision narrows to a black tunnel, wind whooshing in her ears as though she’s on a motorcycle flying down the lost highway. Her focal point at the end of the tunnel is Jughead’s dear and lifeless face.

 _I’m not going to faint,_ she tells herself. _Not happening, not today._

#

The days that pass are counted not on a calendar but by beeps from the monitors hooked up to his body. By plates of sucky hospital food, by the hushed whispers of friends in the waiting room, by styrofoam cups of weak coffee. Somehow FP wrangles Betty in to see Jughead, and she gets to cling to one thumb – the only part not bandaged.

His skin is cold, pale as lunar frost.

She remembers with all the clarity of a knife to her left lung the expression in his eyes when he saw her in the Wyrm. Betty still remembers the little shake of his head when he told her, “You’re an enigma, Cooper.” And there are other moments that are too precious to recall, because thinking about them now hurts too much.

She tries not to, but she can’t help whispering into his ear: “Come back, please please please return to me.”

#

Red. So much red. It’s the color of hope when Jughead chokes on the intubation in his throat in his hospital bed - a sign he's emerging from his coma. It’s the shade of despair when he slips back into a constant and twilight sleep. It’s the color she sees when Betty squeezes her eyes shut and hugs FP too tightly and lets herself fall apart in one final bout of weakness.

Red. It’s the color of pure rage.

#

Days pass. Betty sits by Jughead’s bed and begins to sketch out a plan, daring and simple. It begins with Cheryl, who argues just to win some concessions. Betty knows the deal by now, knows exactly how to manage her cousin. Besides, Cheryl wants in. It’s obvious in the way she agrees to Betty’s scheme with the exhausted grace of a dowager duchess.

“Toni has to know.” Cheryl tightens her mouth into a firm, crimson line after stating the final rule.

“Of course,” Betty agrees smoothly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#

Days pass, then more days, then a night the new doctor at Riverdale General Hospital calls a 'final crisis'. Betty lets her fury simmer on a back-burner as she waits with Jughead's dad. When FP, the tough-as-nails leader of Serpents covers his face and begins to shake,  Betty pulls him into a long hug. Eyes burning with unshed tears, their harsh breathing betrays the words they cannot say…

Until the monitor begins its dreadful screech of "This is it and you had better say your good-byes," and Betty is on her feet. She’s shouting _No, you don’t dare leave me_ at Jughead's motionless body, and she hears FP saying the same thing, _Stay with me boy or so help me god I will kick your ass._

And maybe their combined and burning anger brings him back.

#

Healing, like life itself, is a long process that seems boring when you’re going through it but in retrospect is filled with miracles. There's a moment when Jughead’s eyes open and Betty sees him fully present, not just the blind fluttering of a soul who can’t make his mind up to stay.

The moment when he’s taken off life-support – because he doesn’t need it anymore. Condition upgrade. Move out of the ICU. A first meal that isn’t delivered through a tube. Jughead’s bewildered betrayal at how disgusting the food is. FP smuggling in a strawberry shake, getting caught and lectured by Alice.

All of these triumphant disasters are interspersed with long hours of waiting on uncomfortable tweedy chairs. FP sneaks in a flat bottle that smells like industrial detergent for a few quick sips when he thinks no one’s looking. The second time Betty catches him at it, she tells him she wants motorcycle-riding lessons in the far corner of the hospital parking lot. It’ll keep FP off the hooch, and maybe Betty won’t be tempted to use the razor blade secreted inside a tissue at the back of her wallet.

One night Veronica and Archie meet Betty in the waiting room, and together they begin to research that which cannot be researched in the darkest corners of the web.

#

“Fuck it, I’m done.” Jughead flings his crutches across the PT room and collapses into a wheelchair, his expression stormy.

“Another round of step therapy would really be awesome!” the chipper nurse says. She’s five feet of solid muscle, and Juggie has told Betty no one has ever ridden his last nerve the way Nurse Sadist does. “Betcha you’ll be doing the jitterbug before you know it!”

“If you come back at me with more ridiculous promises and those torture devices,” Jughead threatens, “they might just wind up someone’s ass.”

“You’re doing step therapy again,” Betty informs him calmly. She fetches the crutches, leans them against his wheelchair, and raises one brow. “By the way. If you try to stick these up my hindquarters, Jones, I’m making you do it five more times.”

It makes him grimace and snatch them from her. “Just give me the damn things,” he groans.

In the mirror that covers the west wall, Betty catches the tail end of his grin.

#

“I have to say, you’ve got some stones.” Penny stands beside her motorcycle, a cigarette dripping from one corner of her mouth. “You know I always bring back-up, right? And if you think you’re going to play me, just remember this – I promised your zombie boyfriend you were next when he pulled his little martyr stunt. Thanks for making it easy.” She flicks her pale gaze over Betty’s outfit. “Cheerleading? Really?”

Betty sighs and drops one blue and gold pompom. It’s her signal for the rest of the Vixens to come out from behind the trees, all dressed in game gear. “And of course I brought back up as well. Don’t you get bored of playing the same scene out over and over again?”

Penny stares before emitting a harsh bark of whiskey-laden laughter. “What are you going to do, throw pompoms at me?”

“The grips are made of heavy plastic,” Ethel calls. She wears a hastily-ordered Vixens cheer outfit, and as she speaks she moves to one side to reveal a T-shirt cannon. “At the velocity of 50 mph, a pompom could actually take out your eyes.”

“Give me a fucking break,” Penny snaps, but Betty interrupts.

“We know what you’re hiding in Greendale,” she says. “We know what’s inside Room 66 at the Starlight Motel. In fact, I have the key to that room right here.” Betty holds up the turquoise key-tag, its numbers just visible under the buzzing streetlamp.

When Penny sees it, her face turns white, then green. “No – you don’t – how the hell did you…”

“That’s as close to a confession as you’re going to get,” Toni points out. Beside her, Cheryl fits an arrow to her bow and raises it, pointing straight at Penny’s chest.

“You’re what – going get your friend there to kill me?” Penny shouts. “The way your dad killed all those people? Like father, like daughter, is that it?”

“I’m done,” Betty says. “Done with vengeance, done with blood. There’s been enough of it in this town, and it ends now. You take off and leave the Serpents alone – _all_ of the Serpents, including Jughead and FP – and I’ll keep your little secret. But don’t try to hide, because I _will_ find you.”

“Damn,” Josie mutters.

Taking a long drag of her cigarette, Penny lets the smoke trickle out of her nostrils. “You’re just letting me go? I knew you were weak, blondie.”

“Well, there is the little matter of Jughead’s hospital bill.” Betty drops her other pompom onto the damp grass and approaches to poke one finger into Penny’s chest. “The money you got from selling the contents of that chest you made him and Archie move will help offset FP’s expenses. Leave the cash in an envelope in a locker at the bus station by tomorrow night and text the details to the number on this card, or you know what’s going to happen.”

#

“That’s the first time I’ve actually ridden on the back of a motorcycle.” Jughead tucks the crown helmet under one arm and frowns at the bike.

“Well, you’re not up to driving one just yet, but let’s add that to your list of PT goals. I’ll let Nurse Sadist know.” Betty smiles serenely up at him and takes off her new pink lid. She’s buzzing from the speed, the freedom of the open road, and the feel of Jughead’s body plastered to hers.

“Hm, maybe.” He limps forward, shades his eyes to look at the river. “I’m not saying it was completely horrible.”

Betty unbuckles the saddlebag, removes blankets and a basket, and follows him to the flat rocks. They make a perfect seat, especially when she sits down and pulls him in. His back lies against her chest, warm skin so close it’s difficult to tell where one body begins and the other ends.

“What if my PT doesn’t work?” he asks suddenly. “What if you’re stuck with a guy who walks like a post-shuck crab for the rest of your life?”

Betty hides a smile. “I fell for you, not your legs.”

“Humph! I’ll have you know I’ve got some stellar legs.”

She pretends to eye him up and down. “They’re all right. Bit skinny though. Hairy, too.”

“I draw the line at panty-hose, Cooper.”

“Jug.” Betty changes the subject. “I haven’t been completely truthful with you for a long time now. There are a few things I need to say, but I’m not sure where to start.”

“You’re a vampire,” he declares. “I knew it. Just don’t turn into a bat in front of me, okay? Because those things are nasty.”

For the first time in months, Betty lets go with a belly laugh. “Bats are wonderful creatures!” It’s good, so good to argue with him just for the thrill of debate. “They eat mosquitoes and have those cute little flippy ears…”

“At least we know my terrible sense of humor is intact.” Jughead settles himself against her more comfortably. “Seriously, Betts, why did we start lying to each other? Was it because we got separated on two different sides of a huge conflict, or did it come from something darker?”

“I don’t know.” Betty slides her arms around his neck and kisses the pulsing vein there. He’s alive, and that life is the greatest gift she could ever hope for. “Maybe complete honesty is impossible. But I do want to explain what happened to me over the past few months, and perhaps we can figure it all out together.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan.”

Across Sweetwater, the sun is starting to go down. The last stripes of daylight turn orange, filter through the leaves and become dark red. It’s early spring, and Jughead is alive, and Betty cannot think of anything else to wish for.

There, in the hush of evening, she holds him close and tells her story.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a description of an imaginary family crest: half-red with a vixen ready for battle.


End file.
